


Blame Me

by XxTwistedEverAfterxX



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bite, Blame Me, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTwistedEverAfterxX/pseuds/XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred was still working on controlling his strength, but when he pats a dog too roughly, it bites back. Luckily, Tommy is there to be his hero and cover for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame Me

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts for this fic were: Bite and Blame Me. I periodically open up fanfic prompts and requests on my Tumblr, and this is one of those!  
> I wrote some sweet little Veggie Burgers fluff with Alfred and Tommy as little five year olds playing together, and I hope you enjoy it! Smooch smooch!!

“ _Ow_!”  
  
“Uh-oh…”  
  
Small hands immediately clasped over the sore spot, stinging and throbbing beneath little fingers. Tommy was instantly at his side, scrawny limbs folding as he crouched down, making shooing motions at the dog and snarling at it, baring his teeth in a childish threat, though Alfred knew just as well that the slightly older boy would actually follow through if pushed.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking to Alfred, lips still pulled back in a snarl, puffing his small chest out as the dog barked once, then shook its fur out and turned, walking about the little area by the fence, uninterested in a scuffle, “Are you bleedin’?”  
  
“No,” Alfred replied, his voice a wobbly tremble, sniffling softly, large blue eyes wide and teary, “I mean, not yet. I dunno.”  
  
“Lemme see.”  
  
Reaching out, dirtied fingers—naturally a chocolate brown without the mud they’d been digging through smeared on—curled around Alfred’s wrist, pulling his paler hand in closer, squinting in an attempt to see through Alfred’s fingers, his snarl dropping to a concerned frown.  
  
“Move your hand, Al,” Tommy instructed, “You were bein’ rough, and so that’s why it got mad at you like that.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to,” Alfred mumbled, whimpering as he plopped himself down onto his plump rear, legs stretched out before him, his light blue overalls staining with dirt as he shuffled about to get comfortable, “I was trying to be gentle this time, honest. It was an accident.”  
  
Prying the little hand from the spot where Alfred had been bitten, Tommy studied the little indents—enough for a tiny mark, but with no skin broken, it was safe. The dog could have bitten much harder, so it seemed like it hadn’t been too agitated.  
  
“You’ll be fine,” Tommy promised, wiping one of his hands on his shorts in long strokes to clean them, “Maybe we should go wash your hand though. Then I can kiss it better.”  
  
The promise of a little kiss had Alfred’s bottom lip trembling, summoning crocodile tears in the hope for more pity from the darker skinned boy.  
  
“Oh no… Daddy is gonna be so mad at me,” he whimpered, the tears shifting gears from large and forced for pity, to genuine distress, voice wobbling and cracking with a little sob, “He said I’d be in big trouble if I played with the stray dog again. I don’t wanna be grounded. I just wanted to pet the doggie!”  
  
Tommy’s frown lessened, and he let himself drop to his knees as the tears overflowed, rolling down flushed red cheeks as Alfred began to cry, his missing baby teeth revealed with each loud gasp of air.  
  
“Just blame me,” Tommy suggested, lifting up his shirt to rub at Alfred’s face, a little roughly, but still trying to slow the tear flow down, “If your daddy asks, you can tell her that I bit you when we were playin’.”  
  
“But then—then I can’t play with you,” Alfred wailed, his bitten hand clutched to his chest, the pain more emotional than physical by that stage.  
  
“Stop cryin’,” Tommy huffed, dropping his shirt back down and reaching for Alfred’s hand again, cuddling it in close and rubbing at the sore spot, his own brown eyes glassy, “You’ll make me cry, and then your parents will hear and we can’t play anymore today!”  
  
The words, though meaning to calm Alfred down, had the exact opposite effect on him as he began to howl with sadness, his head thrown back as fat tears dripped from his cheeks. It didn’t take long before the front door to Alfred’s neat house was being thrown open, a tall and slim brunette woman rushing out, her expression briefly venomous, though it quickly shifted into concern as she realised that nobody was harming or frightening her son.  
  
“Alfred, mon cher,” she crooned out, all but sprinting to the little blond, kneeling down beside the two, scooping Alfred up into her arms immediately, small chubby legs wrapping around her waist, “What happened?”  
  
“I bit him when we were playin’!” Tommy spoke up loudly, looking up at Marianne, trying to keep his expression brave, despite the tears that wanted to fall, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kirkland!”  
  
“N-No! No, it was—I was playing with the doggie and I pet it too hard and it bit me, momma, it wasn’t Tommy, he just doesn’t want me to get in trouble,” Alfred objected, voice muffled in Marianne’s neck as he sobbed, arms wrapped around her and clutching to her soft white shirt, “Don’t be mad, I just wanted to play with the doggie. Tommy made it let go and go away, he didn’t bite me. Don’t be mad, I’m sorry, momma!”  
  
Marianne sighed, rubbing Alfred’s back in long soothing strokes, kissing Alfred’s shoulder by her lips, bouncing him gently to soothe him as she crouched down.  
  
“You know your father said not to play with stray dogs for a reason, Alfred. See, this is why,” she explained softly, her lips pressing into a fine line as Alfred sobbed louder.  
  
The little hiccup in front of her had her gaze dropping to the other boy who was struggling to hold back tears, looking up at her with a mixed look of anger and envy. His family life was complicated, and he was a troubled child, but still good and willing to behave when given a bit of care. He was only lonely and affection starved, and though he was like a stray himself, he was still only a five year old boy like her own twin sons.  
  
“Come here, Tommy. Did the dog hurt you too?” she asked, one arm under Alfred’s rear, the other outstretching to the little scowling child.  
  
Tommy blinked hard and in rapid succession, shaking his head, brown-red bangs flopping about. The boy needed a haircut, and she’d happily give him a little trim if he wanted his bangs cleared from his face.  
  
“No, Mrs. Kirkland,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his fists, only to be stopped with Marianne’s hand and a soft ‘ah-ah-ah’ to get his attention.  
  
“Don’t do that, you’ll get dirt in your eyes,” she warned gently, pulling him forward and licking her thumb, rubbing at some of the dirt on his cheek, smiling kindly at him, “Come on. Both of you come inside and you two can wash up and then have something sweet to eat. Matthieu and I were inside making cakes, and it’s almost decorating time. You can join us too, Tommy.”  
  
With a little sob, Tommy nodded, picking himself up and toddling in to Marianne, arms outstretched as she curled her arm beneath his rear, adjusting the two so that the boys were on each of her sides and lifted, standing up as she did so, two sets of arms and legs curling tightly around her body, Alfred still sobbing into her neck, and Tommy quietly pressing his face to the other side, dampening it silently as he tried to remain brave.  
  
“No more playing with stray dogs. I’m not mad at you two, but if you want to in the future, call me and I’ll stay close and keep an eye out, okay?” Marianne spoke, walking towards the front door where she had thrown it wide open, already spotting her other son peering out curiously, violet eyes wide and face still dotted with flour.  
  
“Is—Is Alf-fie and Tommy okay?” Matthew asked, his soft pitched voice tripping over his words, struggling to practice his English. Contrary to Alfred, Matthew preferred French, and was now trying to grasp speaking the other language.  
  
“They’ll be fine, cher, just close the door for me,” Marianne spoke, wiping her feet on the welcome mat as she entered, nudging over her slippers to be righted, having kicked them clean off in her rush to rescue her crying son.  
  
Matthew grasped the edge of the door, starting to pull it closed, Marianne’s soft ‘ah-ah-ah’ halting him and making him jolt, looking up at his mother curiously.  
  
“Remember how I taught you to close doors, Matthieu? Not like that. You’ll hurt your fingers.”  
  
Thinking for a moment, Matthew looked back up at the door and then grasped the doorknob with both hands, looking back to Marianne for guidance. At her smile and nod, he gave a little grin in return and pulled the door shut the rest of the way until it clicked, looking back up at her proudly as she slid her slippers back onto her feet.  
  
“Good boy. How about we all go have a bubble bath then, hm? You’ve got flour and cake mix on yourself, Matthieu, and these two are all muddy and dirty,” Marianne hummed, looking down at Alfred and Tommy as Matthew padded up to her to grasp at the base of her long skirt, “What do you two say? A bubble bath? I’ll get the rubber duck and floating boat out too.”  
  
“Yeah!!” Alfred chirped out, lifting his head, nose snotty and eyes puffy from crying, reaching out to pat Tommy’s back firmly, unable to control his little strength yet, “Tommy, we get to play in the bubbles again!”  
  
“Thank you, Mrs. Kirkland,” Tommy whispered through stuttered breaths, not raising his head.  
  
“You can call me ‘maman’ if you like,” Marianne said softly, “You’re a good kid.”  
  
She could feel the tears soaking in now, and Tommy’s little trembles only made her hold him all the closer as he clutched to her tighter.  
  
“Thank you, maman.”


End file.
